


Opening Montage

by annhamilton



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Human AU, M/M, Snippets, Up opening montage but with the Ineffable husbands, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:22:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22791679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annhamilton/pseuds/annhamilton
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley just fit, as kids, teens, adults and even as they grow old together. They dream of opening a bookshop together and being with each other.(Inspired by a few pieces of fanart with Aziraphale and Crowley as Elle and Carl from UP)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 40





	Opening Montage

**Author's Note:**

> you all have seen Up right? so um, i'm sorry for what's coming. warning: character death

Aziraphale had put on a bowtie for this. It was his first time in an antique bookstore, he loved the smell of books, the feel of the pages and the adventures, he loved the adventure books. The mahogany shelves had black swirls on them. Aziraphale traced them with his fingers.

Aziraphale was only seven but his mum said he read like a ten-year-old. This was her favorite spot, she had told him all about and now he was really here. 

“Hello,” his mum said to the man at the front desk, surrounded by stacks upon stacks of books. 

His head snapped up, the pen in his wrinkled hands dropped against the notebook. “Hello, Miss,” his eyes landed on Aziraphale and then dropped to his bowtie.“And who is this well-dressed little man?” 

“Aziraphale,” Mum said. “My angel son, who won’t damage a single page, right?” 

Aziraphale nodded. 

As Aziraphale spent hours in that bookstore he realized he never wanted to leave and one day, he promised himself, he would own a book store just like this.

*

Aziraphale didn’t like playing outside much but he rather liked the public garden next to the park. But he squeaked as he saw a snake slithering on the grass. A boy with wild red hair and a gleam in his eyes saw what he squeaked about. 

“A snake?” the boy asked. “I’ve never seen one so close,” he crept forward a bit. The snake was small and black and Aziraphale wasn’t as scared as he had been. It wasn’t as scary as he thought. He’d just been surprised.

“It’s cute,” Aziraphale stayed where he was, not wanting to scare the poor thing. “A little thin, though.” 

The boy looked at him strangely. “It’s a snake, they’re supposed to be thin.” 

“They can get fatter.” 

“Can they?” 

“I read it. In a book.” 

“I’m Crowley,” the boy held out his hand like he’d seen grown-ups do. “Antony Crowley but my friends call be Crowley.” 

“I’m Aziraphale. I don’t have any friends.” 

Crowley chuckled and leaned closer, the snake still slithering about the bushes. “The truth is,” he confessed in a whisper. “I don’t either, it’s just what my dad says.” 

“We should be friends,” Aziraphale said. 

“We should.” 

They nodded at each other.

The snake slid out of sight. 

“I saw a sign on the way in the said ‘if you see something, say something.’ Should we say something, I don’t think snakes should be here?” 

Aziraphale suddenly was very scared, not for himself, the snake seemed like a decent fella. “Did the sigh say anything about snakes.” 

“No.” 

“Then we let the snake go, it’s probably long gone by now.” 

Crowley was giving him that look again. “Probably.” 

*

“I’ve only got a dad,” Crowley said at their first play date. 

“I’ve only got a mum,” Aziraphale fiddled with his bowtie. “She’s nice, smells like lavender.” Only when she’s home, which isn’t a lot. 

“Never smelled lavender,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale grabbed his hand without a second thought and led him to the back garden where lavender grew. His hand tingled at the contact and he didn’t want to let go. 

*

“My dad says little boys aren’t supposed to hold the little boys’ hands,” Crowley said on their second playdate. 

“Is it a rule?” Aziraphale asked, he didn’t want to break any rules.

“I dunno. Probably.” 

Aziraphale nodded and went back to his puzzle. 

“Why do you do the corners first?” Crowley asked, not helping but watching. 

“They’re easy to find,” Aziraphale explained. “It gives you something to work off of.” 

*

The ice cream was cold. That was good because it was burning hot outside. Their parents sat at separate benches, they didn’t like each other but Aziraphale and Crowley liked each other enough to make up for it. 

Aziraphale stirred his sundae. “What’s your dream?” 

“I didn’t have a dream last night, it was boring,” Crowley licked a drip of ice cream. “Did you have a dream.” 

“Not that kind of dream,” Aziraphale said, still properly mixing his sundae. “Like a dream for the future, a wish.” 

Crowley shrugged. “I don’t have one. Can I take yours?” 

“That’s not how it works.”

“Maybe it is. We can share a dream.” 

Aziraphale stopped stirring. “It’s stupid,” he mumbled.

“Dreams can’t be stupid. At least not that kind of dream.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.” 

“My dream is...have you ever been in a bookstore.” 

“No.”

“You should, an old book store, there were books there were hundreds of years old. I want to have old books. I like the smell and the feel and I like to read and Mr. Henderson says that the books are full of adventures.” 

Crowley nodded, the  _ look  _ in his eyes again. “So I’ll open a bookshop with you. That’s our dream.” 

*

Aziraphale bought his first book in 7th grade. He saved up his allowance and birthday money and bought a book. It was a book about the adventures of a hero. 

He couldn’t afford an antique book but Crowley had taken him to a book store and told him all the old books started out as new so all he had to do was get a new book and wait. 

Aziraphale held the book out on the walk home and Crowley snatched it from his hands. “This,” he waved the book around. “Is step one.”

Aziraphale saw the street lights flicker and grabbed Crowley’s hand. “We’ve got to get home.” 

Crowley lived two streets down from him and they sprinted, hand in hand until they had to separate. 

*

“Here,” Aziraphale handed Crowley a blue wrapped gift on Christmas Eve. 

Crowley handed him a red wrapped gift and tore into his. Crowley opened the box and delicately took out the sunglasses. They were from a new shop and Crowley had expressed interest in them. 

“These are too expensive,” Crowley said, he was a teenager that has been compared to a demon once or twice but a teenager with some manners. 

“It’s a gift. If you give it back it’s rude besides I’m sure it’ll even out. You’ll buy meals for the next two months at least.” 

Crowley nodded. “Mines stupid but open it.”

Aziraphale opened it. Under the wrapping paper was a black box, it was big and a bit heavy. Aziraphale opened the box and gasped when he saw it. 

It was a large glass jar with a bookshop painted on it. It had to be custom made. 

“It’s for saving up, you put loose change into it and eventually build up some money. It’s—” 

“If you say stupid, I’ll break this over your head.”

Crowley’s mouth snapped shut.

*

Crowley wore the sunglasses every day, even inside. He said it made him look cool and while Aziraphale rolled his eyes and understand that added quite well to his ensemble. 

“Of course, angel,” Crowley said holding up his Chemistry homework. 

“Angel?” Aziraphale said.

“Ya know because of,” he gestured to all of Aziraphale. “This.” 

“Sure,” Aziraphale liked it, far more than he should, he liked it in the same way he liked when they would touch, even accidentally. “Number three is wrong.” 

“Damn it.” 

*

They first kissed in that garden. 

Crowley was the one who dared. He’s cupped Aziraphale jaw and stopped before their lips touched. “Am I reading the signs wrong.”

He wasn’t. It took a bit for Aziraphale to realize it but he loved Crowley, he wanted to go through life with Crowley at his side.

“No.”

*

When that started dating it wasn’t a big change. They were in first-year university students and not much changed. They kissed now and called their dinners dates. They held hands and both of them could keep a secret. 

They knew gay men don’t hold hands in public, they don’t kiss in public and worst of all they were sick, dying, dead because they sinned. They deserved to get AIDS.

It was the 80’s and Aziraphale broke the glass. Well, he didn’t break it literally but metaphorically. Crowley helped him sort the coins and change them into cash. He donated every last penny to an AIDS charity. 

*

Azripahle loved Crowley, he knew that in his very bones. “I have a new dream,” he said, as they walked through the beloved garden. “I want to marry you.” 

Crowley looked around the empty public garden. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Sorry, my dear. I’ll build up to it next time, take you out to dinner, hint at something, tease you.” 

“Bastard,” Crowley said, turning head and locking eyes with Aziraphale. “My favorite bastard.”

Aziraphale stood up on his tip-toes and kissed Crowley on the corner of his mouth. “Is that a yes.” 

“Of course, angel. If I could I’d marry you right now.” 

Aziraphale’s heart yearned in his chest. “One day.” 

“One day.” 

*

Aziraphale was an English professor, he could form words. “I um,” his mum handed him a teacup. “I am dating someone.” 

“Oh,” she said, she still smelled of lavender. “Who’s the lucky lady.” 

Words. Crowley always helped him gain his nerve. Crowley was his rock but he didn’t even tell Crowley about this, he was working right now. “Not a lady.” 

His mother sat down. She didn’t take his hand on comfort like she always did. “It’s Antony, isn’t it.” 

He nodded, his beloved words failing him. 

His mum was religious, the golden cross on her neck was proof of that. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“I don’t need your approval,” Aziraphale wasn’t lying but God he wanted her approval so badly. “I’m a grown man. I just feel like it’s something you should know.” 

“Thank you for telling me.” 

They sat in an awkward silence. 

Aziraphale left, they kept a distant relationship from then on. She didn’t tell anyone and tried to pretend like it never happened. 

Crowley’s dad cast him out entirely. He pretended not to care but Aziraphale knew he cared about everything so much. 

They, metaphorically, broke the glass again. They bought a cottage, it was cozy and barely fit all his books, and needed repairs but it was theirs. 

They repaired it together, painted it, fixed the windows and the roof and got a new mailbox that wasn’t rusted. 

Crowley painted angel wings on it. 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and kissed Crowley. He painted a snake on the mailbox. Crowley was so distracted he let his guard down and Aziraphale dipped his hand in the paint and cupped Crowley’s jaw with the green paint-covered hand. Crowley gasped and dropped down grabbing a paintbrush and using it to flick paint on Aziraphale’s work shirt.

The ended up covered in paint on the ground kissing. 

Aziraphale has never been more in love. 

*

Aziraphale loved his job and his students loved him but he retired as he hit 60. Crowley had retired as well. The glass was broke (metaphorically of course) when the heater broke. Again when Crowley’s car broke.

*

Crowley has loved Azirpahle for a long time, it had been a gradual thing, getting together. But Crowley had fallen fast and hard once he realized what being in love with someone was he knew that was what had happened. 

Aziraphale slowed him down and made life worth living. He loved books and eating, he lit up when he talking about anything he cared about, he was just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing and he was Crowley’s dream. 

They were walking to the public garden, it was their spot and right after they’d go to the sushi place that Aziraphale loved. The retired life was peaceful until Aziraphale fell behind him. 

“Crowley, slow down.” Aziraphale called behind him, but the thing was Crowley was walking slow. Crowley turned and Aziraphale didn’t look well, he was swaying slightly and when he coughed it was violent. 

Crowley caught Aziraphale before he hit the ground. He called an ambulance. 

*

Lung cancer. Stage 4. Present in the brain, liver and even his bones. Crowley couldn’t process it all. 

“What are the treatment options,” Crowley grit out, it was harsh but Aziraphale can’t conscious to calm him down. 

“Considering the severity of the cancer and his age—quality of life may be more important. There really is not much we can do, chemo will make him sick and I recommend quality of life treatment which means treating and managing the symptoms.”

“How long,” Crowley whispered.

“It’s hard to say but a few months is probably all he has left. I’m so sorry.” 

“Get out,” he hissed. “Get. Out.” 

The doctor left without a word.

He took Aziraphale’s hand and kissed it. “Wake up. I can’t do this without you.” 

*

“I want to marry you,” Aziraphale said. They were back to the cottage and he was getting far worse. “It’s legal now.” 

Crowley helped him into his wheelchair. “I heard. I don’t need a piece of paper to prove our love.” 

“But it’d be nice, I’ve always wanted to be Aziraphale Crowley. ” 

“Okay.” 

They got married on April 3rd, 2014. Crowley cried as he knelt down to kiss Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale _ Crowley  _ died April 4th, his husband by his side. 

Crowley didn’t cry, he was numb. So numb. He broke all the speed limits on his way home and when he walked inside he saw the angel wings and the snake. He stumbled inside and felt anger rise up. So much anger his heart was breaking. 

He broke the glass, sending their dream scattered across the floor. He couldn’t breathe and he didn’t care. He wasn’t made to live without Aziraphale. The world took his angel from him. It wasn’t fair, he should have been first. 

It was selfish but he wanted to go first so he never had to do this. Never to had to live without him. Crowley had built his life around Aziraphale, his heart, his home, his world were all Aziraphale and now he was dead.

It was cruel, Aziraphale was light incarnate and that light was forever gone. He was so angry he hardly knew what he was doing. The plants came apart under his hands, he’d had a small garden, he yelled at them and Aziraphale cooed at them. They tore apart under Crowley’s trembling hands. 

Crowley sat down, unable to support himself anymore and he cried, surrounded by lifeless plants and their broken pots. 

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry.


End file.
